Rough Night, Rough Morning
by JoeltotheD
Summary: Set a few days after the season 3 finale, Chuck and Sarah struggle to come to terms with events.


**Hey guys, this is only my second Chuck FanFic, so please be gentle. I know my sentence structure is crap and sorry it's too much emotional drabble for everyone.**

"Dad!"

Sarah Walker was dragged back into consciousness by her boyfriend's cry. She pried her eyes open to see Chuck Bartowski sitting bolt up right in the bed that they shared, staring at the wall opposite. Several beads of sweat were dripping down from his face and onto his bare chest. He was holding his hands limply in his lap, as if he were not quite sure what to do with them. Sarah watched his chest move up and down as he breathed erratically for several seconds, before she pushed herself into a sitting position, drapping her arms around his shoulders. He had not heard her wake and flinched slightly at her touch. Wordlessly, Sarah gently pulled his head down to rest on her breast and started to stroke his hair.

She could hear the quietest of sobbing.

"I love you, Sarah," Chuck mumbled quietly into her chest. His breathing was beginning to slow down.

"I know," Sarah replied as she pulled him closer to her.

It had been three nights since Chuck and Ellie had held the small service for their father. Sarah knew that Chuck had been hiding his grief then, for Ellie and for her and for everyone else. The lasting effect of the adrenaline from the mission to take down Shaw had also helped disguiss it. But Chuck couldn't hide his grief behind his dayface while he was asleep.

Outside of Chuck and Sarah's bedroom window, it was raining. It never rained in southern California at this time of year. But tonight it was raining.

Sarah noticed that Chuck was shaking slightly so she pulled the covers over their sitting forms. Tonight, she was once again his guardian angel. They stayed like that for a while, the rain obscuring the perception of time.

This was new to Sarah. Before she had finally admitted her feeling for him, Chuck had sometimes implied, less than subtly, that she could simply turn her emotions off. Sarah knew that he had not actually meant it, but it had still hurt her and made her think. She had spent the last several years burying emotions and not dealing with her own feelings, only focusing on two things: the mission and staying alive. As she had been taught, not to do so was to be dead. After she met Chuck, after three long years, she found that she could no longer do that. As their relationship had evolved, Sarah had become happier than she believed she could ever be. Nevetherless, understanding her own emotions and dealing with them was almost an entirely foreign concept to her. Now Chuck's father was dead and she was struggling to be there for him emotionally. However, Sarah did know she had to be there for him during this time, because he needed her. And she loved him.

Sarah blinked, feeling that she now had a sleeping weight in her arms. His heart was beating slowly against her chest. She smiled slightly and hoped that he was sleeping a dreamless sleep. Sarah realised that she was now wide awake. She looked over at the alarm clock on their bed side table. It was 3am. Sarah knew she wasn't getting back to sleep now. Tentatively, she lowered Chuck's sleeping form back down onto the matress, before pulling back the covers and rising from the bed. After pulling the blanket back over Chuck and slipping on a robe, she crept towards the bedroom door. When she reached the door she paused and whispered something at the now sleeping form on the bed, before closing the door behind her.

Chuck had not felt Sarah lower him back onto the bed and had almost fallen back into unconciousness when he heard a quiet voice.

"I love you Chuck."

# # #

Sarah entered the kitchen of their shared apartment and even though the lights were off saw that the counter was immaculately clean and the sink empty. The kitchen was generally kept clean, but there was usually at least _some _mess. They did live with Morgan after all. _This is Chuck's way of dealing with it all,_ Sarah thought to herself remembering how he had once told her that doing the dishes was how his family dealt with stress. Sarah pulled open the top cupboard and pulled out the bottle of whisky she knew Chuck kept in there. There was at least three fingers less than a few days ago.

_This was Chuck's other way of dealing with it all. _Sarah thought back to only a few months ago, after Chuck had burnt Manoosh as an asset and after his "living a lie" confession to Ellie, when she had sat in castle watching him on the surveillance calmly drinking glass after glass of the stuff. All she had wanted to do then was to go to him. But she couldn't. The wounds still fresh from Prague held her back. Then there was Shaw.

Shaw.

She refused to think of him as Daniel anymore, refused to personify him. The Daniel Shaw she knew was dead. Maybe he never really existed. Maybe he died the same day as his wife was killed. The same day that _she _had killed her. Maybe she had had a hand in creating the monster that was Shaw. Early on in their partnership, Casey had warned her not to go down the road of what ifs. Even Chuck had told her not to dwell on the past. She couldn't help it though. She had killed his wife. Evelyn Shaw. A loyal agent. An innocent person. Shaw had built his life around finding the person who had killed his wife. Shaw had built his whole life around finding the person who he was sleeping with. Maybe, if she had just carried on walking, just let her pass by in the Parisian street, Shaw wouldn't have gone on to join the Ring. Maybe Stephen Bartowski would still be alive. Maybe Chuck's father's death wouldn't be her fault.

Sarah took a glass off the counter and along with the Whisky bottle, proceded to the living room where she collapsed on the couch. She place the bottle and glass on the table and stared at them.

She didn't know how Chuck could still look at her.

# # #

The rain had finally stopped and the sun was breaking through the clouds outside the window. It was a quarter after eight when Chuck woke up. He reached out with his left hand only to find empty space in the other half of his bed. He was newly unemployed and Beckman had given Sarah several days off, so there was need for either of them to be up. Sarah, particularly, was a late riser. He thought back to last night. His nightmares. Remembering the subway, the moment when Shaw shot his father. He remembered how Sarah had held him in her embrace after he had woken up in a cold sweat.

Starting to worry that he had made her uncomfortable, Chuck leapt out of bed, pulling on a t-shirt. He skidded into the kitchen, when he saw his blonde angel sitting on the couch. Putting on his best smile, he walked over to her and, leaning over the couch, proceded to kiss her on the cheek.

"Hi Sarah," Chuck said, flashing some teeth, as he walked around the couch to face her. His smile immediately faltered as he saw her tear stained face and the bottle on the table.

"Sarah, what's wrong? Have you been here all night?" Chuck said protectively as he sat down next to her, wrapping his right arm around her shoulder.

"I killed her," she said simply.

Sarah looked at him with wide blue eyes. "I killed her. Shaw's wife. Eve. I killed her. She's dead, an innocent person, dead, because of me. And Shaw...Shaw did what he did because of me. He killed your father because..." She was choking back tears now. "I just can't help think...maybe if I hadn't -"

"Sarah, stop," Chuck interupted her. He had heard enough. He put his hand on both of her shoulders and stared into her eyes. God, he loved her eyes. They made her look so innocent, so child-like.

"You're not a killer, Sarah." Chuck smiled as he said this. "Your job...your job reqiures you to do some tough things, necessary things. But that...that does not make you a killer. You didn't kill Eve. Graham or whoever the hell gave the order killed her. Shaw...Shaw killed my father out of spite. Shaw did what he did because of him. Not because of you. Shaw is a burnout, without a conscience. If it hadn't been you...with Eve, someone else would have. The CIA wanted her dead. You didn't turn Shaw into what he is."

Chuck pulled Sarah into his arms and gripped her tight.

"What happened to my father was Shaw's doing. Shaw's doing alone. Not yours, not mine, not anyone elses. You're not a killer, Sarah Walker. I love you. And nothing will ever change that."

Sarah drew back from his embrace and wiped a tear away with her left palm.

"That was fairly eloquant for 8 o'clock in the morning" She said with a half smile. "God, you sure know how to make a girl feel better, Charles Bartowski."

"Well, I'm an eloquant schnook," Chuck said with a grin, as he leant in to kiss Sarah on the lips.

She reciprocated the kiss. "I didn't drink any. The Whisky." She muttered tilting her head toward the bottle on the table.

"I know," Chuck said. Before she could reply, Chuck had suddenly jumped up from the couch and lifting her up in his arms started walking torwards the bedroom.

"Chuck! What are you doing?" she said half slapping his hand.

"Beckman has given you the day off, and I am living off the dear government's dime," Chuck winked at her. "So I suggest that we make the most of it!"


End file.
